


Marzipan

by convexxed



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Superpowers, idk they're just really cute, implied depression, mentions of other members - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:46:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convexxed/pseuds/convexxed
Summary: Warning: fragile. Please handle with care.





	Marzipan

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a couple months since I last posted anything but I haven't been in the best mindset to write, and I've had a few very rough days to deal with. This short piece is heavily inspired by [roguemyeon's](https://twitter.com/roguemyeon) SuYeol fanarts, especially [this](https://78.media.tumblr.com/b96329105abb8000bea94a01c4e82f2c/tumblr_of4wppZnrR1r6uab3o1_1280.gif) and [this](https://78.media.tumblr.com/128649555dbb36fd1344f9f852236c4c/tumblr_oxrfmon6yC1r6uab3o1_1280.png). I didn't know I had a soft spot for these two, but then I learned I did and craved for some domestic fluffiness. 
> 
> Thanks to my precious gems Berry and J, for the unconditional love and support and for being incredible friends.

“What date is it?”

“It’s the 12th of December.” Chanyeol answers nonchalantly as he leans against the doorframe and wraps his cardigan tighter around himself before sipping at his coffee, his grey sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

“Ah, already? This year has gone by awfully fast—faster than I would’ve liked, I daresay.” The older man runs a hand through his hair and furrows his eyebrows in thought, faint rays of sunlight dancing over his pale skin and drawing Chanyeol’s attention to the dark circles and bags under his eyes. “And the day of the week…?”

“Tuesday.”

Junmyeon scrunches his nose and purses his lips in apparent distaste upon hearing Chanyeol’s answer, resembling a child whose dog just passed away and can’t grasp the concept of death, yet. “I don’t like Tuesdays.”

He’s sitting on the bed adjacent to the window and whose covers were changed by Chanyeol the day before, though the latter doubts that Junmyeon has even noticed. His long sleeved white shirt is wrinkled and he’s sporting a headful of bed hair, too long brown locks sticking out from continuously turning and running his hand through them, and Chanyeol notices that his nose is red and his eyes are wandering—searching for something. Junmyeon is the hardest code that Chanyeol has ever tried to crack, but he stopped once he realised how deep the indentations the war left in him were.

“You ask me about the date every single day, Myeon. And it’s been December for a while, now.” The taller comments with a light shrug, blowing at his coffee and watching the smoke rise towards the ceiling in faint white swirls.

“Really?” Junmyeon asks, breathing out a rather awkward laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes and colours his cheeks red, gazing out the window once more. “I’m sorry. The days keep blending together and the seasons bleed into each other right before my eyes, but I fail to register the pass of time. Seems like it was just yesterday that we came here.”

“It’s been already a year.”

Junmyeon flinches almost imperceptibly, but Chanyeol registers it. “Has it been that long since the war ended?”

_The war._

Just like every other war, it had started with a small conflict that escalated into something big and disastrous that took the lives of their friends and became fuel material at night, refusing to let them erase from their memory what they kept trying to forget and leave behind. Memories could be a beautiful remembrance of the past to bring back whenever you needed a break from the present but alas, some could grow and merge into a monster of parasitical nature that would feed on one’s emotions and fill the void with emptiness. Some others were like a shadow, trailing behind you at all times and concealing their presence when addressed, shifting into odd shapes to frighten you. They could also present themselves as shackles and chains, restrictive and heavy and digging into your skin if you pulled too hard or tried to break free, and their only purpose was to keep you from moving forward.

There used to me more of them—a bunch of misfits of all ages and genders, who had been born with an unusual ability and whose mere existence was considered a threat to humankind, despite the only ones in actual danger were the bearers of such extraordinary powers themselves. To everyone else, though, they were no more than a pest that ought to be eradicated as soon as possible lest to mess with the delicate balance of the universe.

It was them against the world, but they were outnumbered and the weight of ignorance-fueled fear and mass paranoia eventually crushed their spirits and took the lives of people they’ve learned to see as both friends and allies in a world where everyone had suddenly become an enemy. They probably never stood a chance, anyway, but doing nothing and letting people stomp over them simply for being different would’ve been so much worse.

However, all the lost lives kept bringing back the same question to Chanyeol’s mind: was it worth it?

“Would you consider seeing someone to help you with that?” He asks once he’s done thinking, his voice low and words carefully picked lest to upset the older man.

“To help me with what?” Junmyeon asks, looking at Chanyeol and following his movements with his eyes as he sets down the mug on the bedside table and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’m alright.”

Chanyeol purses his lips. “You are not, and you know it. You’re lost in time, sleeping the days away and fighting the nightmares at night, but you shut me out whenever I try to reach out to you. You sleep for entire days and wake up not knowing where you are or what day it is, and seeing you like this is painful and frustrating and every time I feel so damn powerless and—”

“No.” Junmyeon cuts off before Chanyeol is done talking, smiling faintly at him although his eyes are devoid of any emotion, unwavering and cold. “My answer is no. I know you’re worried about me and I understand why, but I don’t think you realise that your request would be more harmful than beneficial. I can’t go and say that I’m a freak and my freak friends were killed during a clash we had with people that either wanted to capture us or kill us. Confessing that there’s two of us that survived the war would be suicide, Chanyeol…and I’m not going to throw away everything we’ve achieved. We were given a second chance to live and I refuse to give it up.”

Chanyeol diverts his gaze from Junmyeon’s eyes glazed over with tears and focuses instead on the cold hand gripping his own with such strength that he wouldn’t be surprised if bruises blossomed over his skin throughout the day, and feels a knot forming in his throat as emotion fills him up. Kim Junmyeon was an extraordinary man—a selfless and righteous one with an open heart and guts of steel— thus it was easy to understand why he’d been appointed as their leader and why the loss of his comrades had affected him so much. Chanyeol misses them, too, but he suspects that Junmyeon’s heart hosts more than mere grief; he used to be a clear pond, but the war had turned him into a deep ocean full of mysteries.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon shakes his head and goes back to his daily routine of gazing out the window until the sun sets and night falls over the town they’ve made their new home, but the fear of losing Junmyeon to his own complex mind clings to Chanyeol’s skin like a massive leech that he can’t shake off.

The next day he brings home a calendar and hangs it on the wall while Junmyeon takes a shower, although they’re going to need to wait for the new year to finally be able to use it and start crossing out the passing days. He wonders if Junmyeon is aware that his birthday was a few weeks ago or that Christmas is about a week away, and eventually realises that it doesn’t really matter as long as Junmyeon remembers who Park Chanyeol is.

 

~*~

 

“Happy New Year, Junmyeon.” Chanyeol says as he enters the older man’s room to get the laundry, and he’s pleasantly surprised to find him already showered and dressed up in clean clothes that smell like the fabric softener he purchased not too long ago. “Looking good there. I can’t remember the last time I saw you wearing something else besides sweatpants and—“

“Wait, did you just wish me a happy New Year?” Junmyeon asks, confusion painted over his face. Chanyeol nods. “But…it can’t be. What about Christmas? I don’t recall us celebrating it.”

Chanyeol’s expression changes into one that Junmyeon can’t interpret right away but sends chills down his spine and makes his heart skip a beat because it’s neither happiness nor anger and he still hasn’t learned how to deal with a disappointed Chanyeol. “That’s because we didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You slept through it all, Myeon. I don’t like waking you up, so I just let you rest.” The taller explains and shrugs a bit, as if to reassure his friend that it was alright and he wasn’t bothered by it even though he’s clearly holding back. “We can celebrate together next time anyway, right? No big deal.”

“What about your family? Didn’t you want to be with them?”

Chanyeol shrugs again and waves a hand as if to dismiss Junmyeon’s question and his growing concerns and guilt, dropping a little white lie to keep them from consuming the man. “I called them, so don’t worry. My parents are on a cruise and my sister had plans so it’s not like I missed out on too much.”

“If I slept the whole day, then what did you do?” Junmyeon asks at last after a brief moment of silence which he spent chewing the inside of his cheek, looking over at Chanyeol.

“I just…you know. Stuff.”

“Listen, I appreciate your concern but you didn’t have to stay here. You don’t have to take care of me at all times.” Junmyeon says softly, gently, not wanting to hurt Chanyeol’s feelings. He’s touched that the taller cares so much about his well-being, but he wouldn’t like for him to spend his youth looking after someone who isn’t worthy of such attentions. “I’m not your responsibility and I don’t want to be a burden for you.”

“I think you got wrong a teeny tiny detail, though, because you are no burden and I stayed because I wanted, not because I felt like I _had_ to.” Chanyeol doesn’t say that Junmyeon is indeed the reason he stayed instead of visiting his family or hanging out with his friends (not that he had many, anyway), because he doesn’t want to sound lame and it’s too soon to talk about that. They’ve been living under the same roof for a year yet Chanyeol isn’t ready to admit he’s caught feelings for Junmyeon, because he’s scared of the consequences. “I’m sorry you missed Christmas.”

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas in a long time so it doesn’t really matter.” The older man sighs and gazes out the window, pressing his hand to the cold glass as he tries to predict today’s weather. Everything points towards them getting snow in a couple hours, but it might be just what they needed. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Uh, no. Unless doing laundry and some cleaning count as plans.”

Junmyeon smiles and reaches for the crutch beside the bed to hoist himself up, supporting his weight on his left leg as he hops towards the closet to grab a jacket. “Not today. How does a late Christmas celebration sound to you?”

This question leads to an impromptu drive to the supermarket, where they stumble across sales and deals on Christmas decorations that they toss into the cart with the excitement of a couple kids on the loose at a candy store, taking their time checking out aisles and exchanging opinions on random items that they either cannot afford or would be a complete waste of money. (“Where would we even mount an electric fireplace, Myeon?” Chanyeol had asked, and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment when Junmyeon later gave him a judging look for getting too excited over a hammock.)

A couple hours later they finally decide to head home and get in line at the check-out to pay for their purchases, and Chanyeol takes it upon himself to load everything onto the conveyor belt while humming along to the upbeat music playing across the store. Junmyeon helps with whatever he can, eager to get home and start setting up everything they just bought for their shared flat; mostly, he’s looking forward to seeing Chanyeol smile again.

“Ahem,” the cashier clears her throat to get Junmyeon’s attention and, once she gets it, the girl breaks into a grin and points at the mistletoe hanging right above the checkout. “Guess it’s my lucky day, huh?” 

“Sure, if you want to get a warning from your manager.” Junmyeon returns with a small smile of his own, glancing over at his taller companion who’s busy putting away the bags back into the cart. 

“Where’s your holiday spirit, sir? You just bought all these decorations even though Christmas is over, yet you refuse to honour the ancient tradition of kissing under the mistletoe?” She insists despite Junmyeon’s obvious discomfort by the shameless flirting, winking at the man. He’s sure that her intentions aren’t bad and she’s harmless, but he locked himself away from the rest of the world for so long that the girl’s straightforwardness isn’t taken as a compliment but rather a _threat_. “Sir?”

And then his saviour arrives. Chanyeol hands over his credit card to pay and Junmyeon slowly registers that he, too, is standing under the mistletoe albeit completely oblivious to it. The cashier hands Chanyeol his receipt and Junmyeon decides to jump into action before she uses this opening to score a kiss (which was unacceptable, by the way), grabbing the taller by the collar of his knit sweater and tugging him down as he leans up to gently press their lips together.

One, two, three. Junmyeon pulls back and prays to every god he knows that Chanyeol isn’t mad at him, but instead he’s greeted by his friend’s amused grin and sparkling eyes that are telling him that everything’s good and thus he shouldn’t worry. While Junmyeon is relieved that Chanyeol isn’t bothered by the spontaneous kiss, he can’t help but wonder why—but what use would it be to ponder over such things right now, when they could discuss them later?

“My, my. What was that for, Myeon?” Chanyeol asks as they exit the store and walk towards the spot where they parked, pushing the cart with ease.

Junmyeon merely shrugs and fixes the scarf around his neck, trying his best to seem nonchalant although that’s the opposite of how he’s feeling. “The cashier wanted to see my holiday spirit and you happened to be standing under the mistletoe she hung. Merry belated Christmas and happy New Year, by the way.”

“I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier and I apologise for that.” Is the first thing that comes out of Chanyeol’s mouth once he slips into the driver’s seat after putting their purchases in the trunk, flashing Junmyeon an apologetic smile. “My sister actually invited me to her place for Christmas, but I told her that I already had plans. It’s just…I wanted to stay home, and home is where we’ve lived for the past year. It’s where I feel safe after everything that happened and where I started to build a new life from scratch.”

Silence.

“Last year we couldn’t celebrate because we were too busy running away and covering our tracks, remember?” Junmyeon nods. “We did that for months until there was no place left to hide and we were forced to step out and fight, even though all odds were against us. Sometimes I see them in dreams, Myeon. I can still hear their voices. I still see them everywhere I go.”

“I do, too.” Junmyeon murmurs once Chanyeol’s done talking, reaching out to place his hand atop the other’s. “Some days it’s like they never left, and some others I can’t stop thinking about how they’re all dead and we aren’t.”

“We aren’t.” Chanyeol repeats under his breath and flips his hand over to squeeze Junmyeon’s, heaving out a sigh. The windows and windshield are starting to get foggy but neither of them cares, and Chanyeol briefly wonders if Minseok is responsible for the thin layer of snow covering the streets and painting the town white. “We’re here.”

 

~*~

 

Junmyeon hasn’t told Chanyeol, but he has enough reasons to believe that the life span of his water-bending powers is coming to an end. Maybe it’s due to the lack of use in the past year, but there’s a possibility that he somehow used up all his powers during the war and therefore no longer possesses them. He doesn’t know what to make out of that or how to test his hypothesis, but he isn’t ready to find out the truth, either.

Being different than the rest had always been a synonym of something bad and punishable, but he also fancied the thought of being special and having something that couldn’t be bought or taught at schools because he’d been born with it. Junmyeon knew he was unique and prided on his abilities, and for so long he believed that he was one of a kind—until he met the others, and he realised he was actually small and inexperienced and maybe he wasn’t as unique as he thought.

Could he consider himself special when there were people like Zitao, who controlled time, or Jongin, who teleported at will? Back then he didn’t, but after surviving the war and managing to start anew, he’s begun to think that there must be something special about him besides his powers, after all.

“Oh, looking good there. Going somewhere?” Junmyeon asks casually when Chanyeol walks into the tiny living room all suited up and hair slicked back, his heart skipping a beat because it’s unusual to see him like this. Is he maybe seeing someone? Junmyeon can’t recall his flatmate starting any sort of relationship with anyone, but it’s become the norm for him to forget; in fact, it’s almost a miracle that he still remembers who he is.

“Yeah.” Chanyeol confirms with a nod, raising a brow and propping a hand on his hip as he glances over at where Junmyeon is sprawled across the couch. “I made reservations at the restaurant you like for tonight. You aren’t even dressed up.”

“I haven’t even showered.” Junmyeon corrects, earning himself a huff and a small smile from the taller male. “Why did you do that?”

Chanyeol’s smile falters and astonishment paints his face, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening. “Myeon, it’s your birthday. We’ve been planning this for the past month.”

“Is it? Goodness, I keep losing track of time. Seems like just yesterday we were celebrating Christmas!”

“On New Year.” Chanyeol adds.

“On New Year, yes.” Junmyeon repeats with a smile, feeling relieved that Chanyeol hadn’t dressed up to meet anyone else; no label had been put upon their relationship yet and neither had brought up the subject, but the one thing that Junmyeon was sure of was that he didn’t want Chanyeol to go away. It’s selfish and he knows it, but is it wrong for him to cling to the only person who’s keeping him from losing himself in the myriad of worlds inside his head? “I’d rather us stay in.”

The taller man raises a brow and drops his hands to his hips, narrowing his eyes that are burning with questions and a childish curiosity. “Seriously? Do you have any idea of how difficult it is to get a table there? Give me one good reason not to drag you into my car and drive us there.”

Junmyeon shifts on the couch and gazes into Chanyeol’s eyes, but he doesn’t see his reflection on them; he sees everything he’s been trying to escape from ever since the war ended: flames burning down dozens of trees, ice needles darting across the air and sinking into bruised skin, a blinding light casting shadows over the withering flowers and, lastly, he sees—

“Rain. It’s going to rain a lot tonight.”

Chanyeol doesn’t protest nor does he insist on leaving home anymore, for he now knows better than to question Junmyeon and reopen wounds from the past that never fully healed. He’s learned to read past his forced smiles and between the carefully woven jokes he uses as a shield to conceal how lost he feels inside and to drown the guilt that continues to eat him up from the inside out; Junmyeon still blames himself for the death of their comrades and friends despite himself having barely made it out of there alive, and he seems to have gotten caught in a toxic mindset where he vehemently believes that the fault was his and he should’ve died with the rest.

“I guess we’re staying in, then.” Chanyeol concedes at last with a small smile and despite the clear sky devoid of any clouds, turning on his heels and heading back to his room to change out of his attire and into more comfortable clothes. This would also be the first time in over a year that Junmyeon stepped out of their shared flat but that could wait; Chanyeol could wait. “So, how should we celebrate you turning a year older today?”

Junmyeon scoots over to make room for Chanyeol on the couch and the taller plops down beside him, but instead of providing a verbal answer Junmyeon opts for throwing a leg over Chanyeol’s lap to straddle him, clutching the front of his shirt with his cold hands. He’s just finished settling there when lighting strikes and thunder roars in the distance, all lights going out and shadows slithering into every nook and cranny as it starts to pour outside.

The rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the window makes up for the silence that has fallen upon them, and a brief glimpse at the weak flame dancing on Chanyeol’s palm is enough to remind Junmyeon that his own powers are dwindling. It’s funny, he thinks, that he once dreaded being different but now that he’s on his way to becoming like everybody else and losing that one thing that made him unique, he hates that. He doesn’t know anymore where he belongs, nor who he is.

“Myeon?” Chanyeol asks cautiously after a moment of studying the older man’s expression, bringing the flame slightly closer to their faces. It’s the type of fire that doesn’t burn, hence there’s no actual risk of them suffering any injuries. “Is everything okay?”

“Put it out.”

“What?” Chanyeol blinks.

“The fire, goddammit! Put it out right now!” Junmyeon’s shouting feels like a slap and a bucket of ice cold water dumped on Chanyeol’s head right afterwards, and he’s quick to oblige lest to further upset the other, although he has no idea of what could’ve triggered his outburst. Then Junmyeon deflates and grips Chanyeol’s shoulders tighter as he pushes his face into the crook of his neck, and the latter notices that he’s trembling, just like the earth does whenever thunder and lightning strike. “I’m sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” Chanyeol already knows what the answer is, hence he doesn’t find it surprising when Junmyeon shakes his head, and immediately provides some comfort by wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist. “Tell me what’s going on.”

It takes a whole minute for Junmyeon to tear down his walls and build up the courage to speak up his mind, and he’s immensely grateful to Chanyeol for being patient and letting him take his time instead of pressuring him to hurry up and talk. That small gesture might go unnoticed to many, but it speaks volumes to Junmyeon. 

“I’m losing my powers,” he finally murmurs after another moment of silence, taking note of the way Chanyeol’s fingers twitch and his breathing hitches, but he keeps talking anyway. “I still have that connection with the water, but I no longer can control it and that makes me feel sad. It’s like I lost a vital part of me—I feel incomplete and it’s stupid, because I cursed those powers once because they made me different and all I wanted was to be like everybody else, but they led me to you and the rest of the guys. For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere and I wasn’t the biggest freak. There was you, who kept accidentally burning things, and there was Jongin, who kept disappearing and reappearing out of nowhere and at random times. I was normal, and I was happy.”

Pause. Thunder makes the ground shake beneath them and Chanyeol tightens his grip around Junmyeon, and feels him easily melt against his body whilst the rain continues pouring relentlessly and the world keeps spinning. They met a boy who could make time slow down and rewind, but he’s been gone for a while and there are no chances of him coming back. Ironic, how he used his powers to save countless people yet couldn’t save himself from the bullet that pierced his heart.

“I’ve lost track of time, and now my powers are abandoning me. I don’t want to lose anything else but there is only so much I can do, and I’m scared.” Junmyeon’s hand come to cup Chanyeol’s face and he presses their foreheads together, the tips of their noses bumping and breaths mingling, two hearts beating in unison. “What if you’re next on the list, and second to last before myself? What if you decide that I’m no longer worth looking after because we don’t have anything in common anymore?”

“Junmyeon, that’s ridiculous.”

“It makes absolute sense to me, though. Those are the thoughts deeply rooted into my mind and I can’t shake them off, no matter what I do.” Junmyeon all but whispers, and their faces are so close that Chanyeol entertains the thought of kissing him once again, even if there’s no mistletoe this time around. He doesn’t need a reason to do it, but having one makes it easier to explain his actions without fully exposing himself. “I don’t want to forget you, and I don’t want you to go away from me. I’m scared, Chanyeol. I already wake up with no knowledge of the date or how long I slept, but I’m afraid of waking up and not finding you anywhere. I’m afraid of you willingly walking away from me.”

Chanyeol lightly shakes his head and rubs the tip of his nose against Junmyeon’s, allowing his hands to grip his hips and rub his hipbones over the fabric of his shorts. “I’d never do such thing. You’re wonderful.”

“I’m powerless.”

“You won’t be a target anymore, then.” Chanyeol interrupts before Junmyeon can continue putting himself down, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed flushed against each other and their lips touch briefly—too quick to be a considered a kiss, yet deliberately enough to not have been an accident. “I’m not going to walk away and leave you alone, even if you forget my name and I’m just a face that looks oddly familiar. I’m still around not because you need me, but rather because I need you.”

Thicker and heavier raindrops collide against the window and take care of washing away the remnant sins and forgotten history from the streets below, and Junmyeon realizes that this is his cue to say goodbye to the life he once knew and to let go of the ghosts he kept around him for so long. It’s time to bid his friends fare well and move on, and knowing that Chanyeol will be there to assist him makes it easier for him to picture a world where he isn’t dragging the past along, like shackles around his ankles and a noose squeezing at his troubled heart.

“What happened wasn’t your fault, and deep inside you know that. You did all you could.”

“I could’ve done more.” Junmyeon clutches Chanyeol’s shirt and closes his eyes, and he sees their friends right before the war began. They’re all smiling and enjoying themselves, and that’s how Junmyeon wants to remember them. That’s how he wants them to live in his memory. “I miss them.”

Chanyeol hums. “I miss them, too, but we can’t spend the rest of our lives mourning their deaths and pitying ourselves. We got to move on, Myeon. We got to go with the flow of things, and I’m sure you understand that better than anyone else.”

Junmyeon does understand what Chanyeol is trying to tell him, for he was once the bearer of the power of water—but perhaps his superhuman abilities came with an expiration date and his time was over. His time with Chanyeol, however, was not.

“I guess this is literally our second chance at life, huh?” He asks, opening his eyes just enough to be able to look at the other man. The lights are still out and the rain will probably last another while, but lightning isn’t blinding anymore and the roaring of thunder sounds faint, as if it came from somewhere far away.

“You could say that.” Chanyeol smiles against Junmyeon’s lips and slips a hand beneath the hem of his large sweater to rest on the small of his back, watching his face closely to gauge his reaction as he glides his other hand down his thigh. Junmyeon looks flustered but doesn’t ask him to stop—in fact, he seems to be holding his breath—but he decides to ask for consent anyway. “Is this alright?”

“That depends,” Junmyeon whispers and gently runs the pad of his forefinger along Chanyeol’s collarbone, a hint of a bashful smile on his lips, “on whether I can claim this as a birthday present. It’s a lot cheaper than dinner at some fancy place, so I’m actually saving you some money. You can thank me for that later.”

“Or I could thank you right now.”

Chanyeol’s hand travels up Junmyeon’s thigh and slips beneath his shorts and underwear, and goosebumps rise on his skin when the taller man’s hand cups his buttock. Their lips meet amidst the darkness and meld against each other without a single rush in the world, for they have nothing to prove to anyone this time around. Chanyeol can smell the saltiness of Junmyeon’s tears clinging to his eyelashes and staining his cheeks, and Junmyeon thinks he can taste the fire on Chanyeol’s lips.

The rain subsides after a while but they don’t stop kissing, because that’s the one thing they have control over in a world that has let them down countless times throughout their lives; they can’t predict the weather, but they can decide when to deepen the kiss and let their tongues meet; they can’t turn back time and bring back their dead friends, but they can make the most out of the days they have left by working towards building a brighter future instead of clinging to the past; they can’t throw away their lives and change who they are, but together they can help each other move forward even when the world seems to be against them.

They’re fire and water, and the only survivors of a pointless hunt led by the government and fueled by the fear in the hearts of those that couldn’t comprehend what was different. They fought against ignorance and rejection and looked into the eyes of death, and now they’re living a relatively normal life—and Junmyeon thinks that normalcy is exactly what he’s afraid of. He doesn’t want to be like the people that casted labels upon him and took away his friends’ lives.

“Is it really okay if I lose my powers?” Junmyeon asks once they’ve stopped kissing and the copious rain has died down into a light drizzle, although the power hasn’t come back yet and their only sources of light are the small flames on Chanyeol’s fingertips with which he’s drawing random shapes on the air while they lie side by side on the floor.

“I literally can’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t be.” Comes Chanyeol’s answer as he traces a star with his forefinger for Junmyeon’s entertainment, lightly furrowing his eyebrows when small, pale fingers slip between his own. “Careful. You could burn yourself.”

“Then maybe you could kiss away the pain.” Junmyeon suggests with a light chuckle, though he does stay away from the fire. Chanyeol’s warm and he’s a bit chilly, but not to the point of being icy cold like Minseok. “Did I miss your birthday, too?”

Chanyeol laughs and closes his eyes, starting to feel sleepy. “Yeah, but that’s okay. I wasn’t in the mood for celebrations, anyway.”

Junmyeon purses his lips and releases the taller man’s hand in favour of rolling atop him and snuggling up to him, noticing that Chanyeol’s cheeks and ears are dusted pink and he’s got his hands placed on his hips. _Cute_ , he thinks, and then remembers their first meeting and how terrified he’d been of the lanky boy with the deep voice and weird tics; Chanyeol would fidget and twitch whenever his powers were mentioned and then he’d stammer and choke up on his words, and the pent-up frustration and embarrassment would consequently set off his powers.

That was the old Park Chanyeol, though. The man beneath him fought by his side and went through the same hell he did, held his hand when the horrifying nightmares refused to let him sleep, and stayed instead of turning his back on him. Chanyeol still fidgets when he thinks that no one is seeing him, sometimes he also stammers and goes over the same words without noticing, and has never complained about Junmyeon’s avoidance of the painful reality by seeking shelter in his own mind.

“I’ll remember it this time.” Junmyeon promises softly as he leans down to press their foreheads together once again, looking straight into Chanyeol’s eyes once he opens them. “I give you my word.”

“And I believe you.” Chanyeol returns with a bashful smile, squeezing Junmyeon’s sides as he licks his lips. “How did you know it was going to rain tonight, though?”

Junmyeon shrugs. “How could I not know? It’s my birthday, after all, and I’m still the guardian of the water. I’ll have to relinquish that title very soon but, until then, I’m trying to pay special attention to the signs.”

“There were no clouds in the sky.”

“There was fire in your eyes and water was the only way to put it out and wash them all away.” The older man explains. “So, I made it rain. Do you know what today is, by the way?”

Chanyeol smiles. “It’s a Tuesday, isn’t it?”

The lights flicker twice before coming back to life and chasing the darkness away, and both men laugh freely now that the shadows from the dead and the voices from the past are gone.

The war is finally over.


End file.
